Gobbler’s Knob. Heh.

I prefer Rosi’s Christ Stopped at Eboli, for the same kind of immersive, unhurried, rural-Italian trip. But holy shit, Il Posto and I Fidanzati are fantastic movies. (And Legend Of The Holy Drinker is at least memorably odd: hard to think of two less congruent sensibilities than Joseph Roth and Ermanno Olmi.)

The cinema of hysteria. But the craft is pretty immaculate; certainly, no one ever deployed low-level tracking shots with such immaculate grace.

Love that film: Schneider is (typically) fantastic—and yeah, Testi’s an empty shell. (Sac?)

From what I understand, she actually ‘spent much of the interim [years]’ since The Headless Woman trying, and failing, to get a SF project off the ground – an adaptation of the Argentine comic El eternauta. And having, and recovering from, cancer.

Harold,

Yeah, if this is a B+, most films are D’s.

To their credit, they seem to have gone for something genuinely a bit different. Now cue all the journalists who’ve been wanting fresh blood and an end to the ‘Cannes Club’, howling with outrage that x isn’t included. (I’m not accusing you of this, by the way, IV.)

That’s like ‘Sweet Smell of Success’ compared to the dialogue from The Beautiful Days In Aranjuez. Here, for your pleasure, are some real lines from its actual script:

I love them too (and agree with you about the meagre plot). I just pray they keep Akiva fucking Goldsman the fuck away from it. That guy can barely write his own name.

Me too. And it’s fucking gold.

Back in February 2003, when I was at the Edinburgh Film Festival, I asked the representative from Magyar Filmunió—the government body that oversees the production and export of Hungarian films—what Fehér was doing. Not having seen anything since 1998's ‘Passion’, I wondered whether he was making/about to make a new…

The late Hungarian director György Fehér adapted The Pledge back in 1990 as Twilight, working in part from a film script Duerenmatt himself had written years earlier which both preceded and inspired the novel. It’s often lumped in with the work of Béla Tarr, but it’s really its own, singular thing: a quietly…

He’s probably the worst human being I’ve ever met.

Given that ‘Il Divo’ is the only film of Sorrentino’s I can stand, I’m rather looking forward to this.

I don’t get that.

I’ve been calling it “Tyler Perry’s ‘What Dreams May Come’”.

All I’ll say is, this is the most meta ‘reason’ imaginable.

That’s pretty much how every critic I know who wasn’t American felt about him. The hysterical wailing and overwrought paeans from US writers when he died was greeted by most of us with bemusement—and no little amusement.

Your life sounds lonely and desolate and your chosen companions awful.